Temptation
by Mel like Mellow
Summary: "It was a game of chicken, and everything in her pulled both ways. Bulma knew what she wanted, would freely admit it especially now that she was a few weeks into a self-inflicted dryspell. But this proud man she sat astride, despite how ready his body seemed to betray him and confess, had a different agenda altogether." / 3 year gap / RATING M for sexual imagery, swearing
1. Chapter 1

**Temptation**

 **A/N:** So, this was totally, 100% inspired by some sick fanart by **lem0uro** (Tumblr)! I couldn't stop looking at it, it was so gorgeous, and then this happened. So I hope that's okay. Enjoy!

 **UPDATE: Rated M** for swearing and sexual imagery, in following chapters!

* * *

Her body felt heavy. Summer had been almost oppressive lately, the season content to drag on over the lazy months. Even with the air conditioning blasting relentlessly, Bulma could feel the heat pushing at the large windows of her room, and she rolled to her side with an exaggerated sigh.

It wasn't just the heat keeping her awake. Despite the efforts of her day, she working tirelessly in the family lab, trying to beat the clock and devise new ways to fend off the looming android attack, sleep still evaded her. The reason? A certain alien house guest had recently been occupying space in her brain - especially ( _no,_ _ **particularly**_ ) in the dead of night.

She'd like to say she couldn't put her finger on exactly when it had begun to reach this fever pitch as of late, but she's no dummy, and she certainly wouldn't delude herself.

Yamcha was a prick. After his uncovered infidelity, Bulma had too much pride to let it go. He'd been kicked to the curb a scant few weeks ago, when they both had traded lacerating words and accusations, neither willing to admit how close to the truth the other had cut.

Even he had brought it up then, _"You can't keep your attention off_ _ **him**_ _for five minutes!"_

" _He's going to help fight the androids; we_ _ **need**_ _him!"_

" _Yeah, and what about_ _ **me**_ _?"_

"What _**about**_ _you?"_

Bulma grimaced and pushed her face into the pillow. She still felt sour over the whole ugly thing, though with each day that passed, it lessened, and now all that often cropped up was embarrassment. She hated being made a fool of, but she also didn't exactly pride herself on being mean-spirited. Yamcha had managed to bring about both.

She wriggled and kicked the sheet further down her legs. She huffed. She shimmied over to her other side, tucking her arm under the pillow, eyes shut tight.

 _Aaaand there he was, bronze and olive skin glistening, all harsh lines and bulging biceps_. The technicolor of her imagination could barely do Vegeta justice. It's not like she hadn't noticed his attractiveness upon first introduction; Bulma wasn't blind. But since splitting with Yamcha, she had been finding herself daydreaming idly about that inhuman physique more and more frequently. It was getting dangerous.

Her eyes snapped open and, with another puff, she hauled herself up out of bed. A quick glance of the ground at the foot of her bed, and she snatched up a sheer scrap and pulled it over her unruly curls. There had been a couple of late night, accidental run-ins either in the hall or kitchen between she and the object of her vexation, and while she wasn't prude enough to put on pants just for a glass of milk in her own home, she also wasn't familiar enough with the Saiyan prince to flounce around with her breasts on display.

Despite how much her throbbing loins dared her to be.

The compound was dead silent at this hour, and she strived to keep it that way, her bare feet soundless as she padded down the stairs and into the kitchen. There was a small part of her disappointed not to find him rummaging through the fridge, though she was quick to squash it down.

Drink in hand, she started back the way she came, but a soft movement out of the corner of her eye caught her off-guard.

Bulma froze, immediately wary. She could barely make out the curve of a shoulder from the living room from her vantage point, but she was sure it was him. Obnoxious curiosity took hold, because he was never _ever_ in the living room, and her body was tip-toeing in that direction before she had time to think better of it.

Vegeta, recumbent on the sofa, head tilted back and eyes closed in rest. _Oh._ Her lips parted of their own volition as she greedily took in such a rarity. Bulma knew it would be cruel to disrupt such a pleasant scene, she wasn't quite sure when - if _ever_ \- the warrior took a moment to be at peace, but _fuck_ if she didn't want to.

Swallowing, she felt emboldened by the privacy of the moment, and Bulma pushed forward into the living room. As expected, the Saiyan's head snapped up immediately upon the intrusion, and his eyes slanted suspiciously in the dark. Almost as quickly, however, those same black eyes widened imperceptibly, and she noted with a shiver of pride as he took swift assessment of her level of undress.

If she weren't mistaken, Bulma thought there might've been a pink hue cast upon his cheeks as she dared to sink leisurely down on the opposite end of the couch.

When he made no effort to move, she tilted her glass up for a drink, peering at him from over the rim. Vegeta's figure and features stayed stiff, he watching her from the corner of his eye, waiting.

She gulped, and licked her lips. "What are you doing in here?" He said nothing. "I would've thought to see you in the kitchen, but..."

When his eyes glanced down at the table at knee level, she tracked his eye line and spotted several peels, wrappers, and boxes lain to waste across the table-top. Bulma smirked and rolled her eyes back up to his face. "Ah-ha, I see."

Normally he would bite at her, but she either must've really thrown him off or he just wasn't in the mood. She shrugged and lifted her glass, swirling the contents, "I couldn't sleep, myself. Crazy how you can feel so exhausted, but your brain just won't shut off, right?"

"Tch," was Vegeta's response. "I wasn't aware yours was ever on, woman."

She smiled coyly. _There he was_. "So, I suppose that gravity machine just built itself, right?"

His eyes stole at her from the sides, his mouth turned down. "Keeps fucking up well enough on its own, too."

"Ohhh, c'mon. I think you have more than enough hand in that," Bulma sniffed and took another sip. "Maybe if you used it for its original intention instead of your sick self-flagellation-"

"This is what you come to bother me for?" He cut her off gruffly. "You think I give a shit about _your_ intention?"

Her heart skipped a beat in her chest as her insides coiled in equal parts arousal and offense. "I honestly don't think you give a shit about much at all," she admitted, trying not to sound breathless under his careful eye. "But it sure beats the hell out of me what exactly you're trying to do in there all day."

Vegeta sneered at her and turned his face away, as though the sight of her appalled him. "Idiot woman," he griped. "As though you could understand any of it."

"Well, that's what I'm trying to discern, here," Bulma snitted and placed her glass a little roughly on the table next to his debris.

"You're weak," he spat at her aggressively, glaring upon her then, and she felt hot in her face. "What I'm working for, what I desire- you couldn't possibly comprehend. So stop ' _trying'_."

Bulma's whole body flushed as he snarled at her, and she had to be conscious not to let her jaw fall agape. But there was a word - a single word - that rang in her ears as she stilled, contemplating her next move. Slowly, she leaned in, her rounded shoulders pushing her breasts together ( _she could see his eyes peek down, half of a half-second_ ), and she wet her lips ( _there, he looked again_ ) with the tip of her tongue.

"Desire, huh?" She barely whispered, voice a hush, and he rolled his shoulders against it. When Vegeta made no other movement, Bulma smirked and, _vulgar woman that she was_ , crawled the single cushion across and into his lap. Her knees slid to either side of his hips as she settled, unburdened, blue eyes never leaving his steadily unnerved visage.

As her hand slid up to cup his shoulder, she felt his two gloved ones curve almost reflexively against her lower back. They were warm, firm, and just barely pressing her. He stared up at her, mute and clearly at a loss for how these tables had turned upon him, and Bulma lifted her other hand up to frame his cheek delicately. Her thumb caught his lip, and she felt his shaky breath tickle her digits.

Her body ached for that part of him she could feel stirring under her bottom, and she instinctively swayed down and into him, humming behind her pressed lips.

"Vegeta..." she murmured, and his eyebrows twitched. She tipped her nose closer to his own. "What _do_ you desire?"

It was a game of chicken, and everything in her pulled both ways. Bulma knew what she wanted, would freely admit it especially now that she was a few weeks into a self-inflicted dryspell. But this proud man she sat astride, despite how ready his body seemed to betray him and confess, had a different agenda altogether.

Another stroke of her thumb pulled at his lower lip, and his fingers clenched harder against her back. She shuddered as he found the strength to mutter under his breath, "You vulgar creature…"

Bulma's lips pulled crooked, before she brazenly dipped them down to graze the corner of his own. He tensed immediately under her attention, and all at once her chest got tight and the air felt thin around her. When she drew back an inch, his expression was still that of a trapped animal, he was breathing shortly through his nose, and she demurred at the sight. She squeezed his shoulder with her other hand and maneuvered her body up and off of his, her feet sneaking back to the floor from her perch.

Vegeta sat still in place on the couch, those warm hands fallen upon his thighs as his guarded eyes watched her move. She felt at a loss suddenly, missing the outline of him but knowing a line had been crossed here.

Bulma bit her lip and tucked a lock of blue behind her ear. As the silence slammed in between her ears, she lost her nerve at last. Quickly, she spun on her heel, crimson flooding her face and chest as she made haste back down the hall to the safety of her room. _Dear God -_ _What was she thinking?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Temptation**

 **A/N:** I couldn't leave well enough alone myself, and I've been trying to figure out how to continue this guy because I just can't quit Vegebul smut. Is this graceful, beautifully orchestrated smut? Not at all. But this was what my brain came up with, so here ya go. I hope you enjoy it! Thanks for the reviews, guys! :)

 **UPDATE: RATING M** now for swearing and sexual imagery!

* * *

Rest had not come any easier since that night, or any of the others following. Bulma cursed the dusk and dawn, knowing she'd brought this entirely on herself. _Why couldn't she leave well enough alone?_

No, her unchecked labido and lack of self-control had led her down a path she wasn't nearly prepared for.

Every day for the past week, she had done everything she could to avoid the Saiyan prince, embarrassed with herself over the whole incident. Surprisingly ( _or perhaps not_ ), he had seemed more than happy to oblige her, and Bulma had not seen hide nor hair of Vegeta during that time.

 _In the flesh, anyway…_

However, come evening, the only peace she could find was in her now all-too-familiar fingers working herself toward tense, shuddering completion, as fabricated, scandalous images of she and Vegeta played on a regular rotation.

Which left her just momentarily satisfied and yet altogether still frustrated.

And so she burrowed herself away in the family lab, working on fail-safes and schematics, eyelids heavy and head pounding in her efforts to thwart daytime ponderings of anything unrelated to science and technology.

Bulma bent over the new plans for an update to the Capsule hoverjet. Mostly complete, it just needed a few more aesthetic touches that she could only trust herself with the final design. She bit the eraser end of her pencil and furrowed her brow, wondering whether or not they should add that mini-cooler under the front console as opposed to the rear storage, and whether or not it could potentially mess with the circu-

 _SLAM!_

Papers, pencils, and her third cup of coffee went teetering off every edge of her desk, as her stomach was thrust forward into the cold steel by something terrible and firm behind her. She sucked in a harsh breath and seized up in instinctual terror, her wide eyes flying toward the gloved hand at her right that was pushing a sputtering droid into the tabletop.

Sparks from the robot licked around his fingers as he crushed it further down and dented it into her desk. Bulma swallowed, acutely aware of every inch of Vegeta that was now imposing against her back.

"Woman," he seethed. While she couldn't see his features, but she had a pretty spot-on idea of how they were likely contorted.

As his warmth began to radiate through her lab coat and clothes, her initial fear began to ebb into something a little more tainted. She cleared her throat and shifted minutely from where she was pinned between him and her desk.

He growled again behind her, and she shivered.

"Vegeta," she replied, as plainly as possible, hating the breathy catch in her throat. "I take it there's something you need?"

Her cool tone appeared to only serve him more fury, and he sniffed dangerously in her ear. _God_ , he was absolutely _pulsing_ behind her, and Bulma squeezed her thighs together tightly against the throb in her core.

"As a matter of fact, woman, I do. Let's start with some equipment that isn't absolute _shit_ the minute I engage it in training."

She glanced toward the offending droid, and pursed her lips. "I didn't make that one; my dad did. Take it up with-"

His solid torso threatened forward, and she gasped softly as his hips pressed her further against the desk. It was getting a little harder to breathe, and she wasn't sure if that was from being trapped against the metal, or from the persistence of his rock-hard body flush against her.

"I don't care for your excuses. I want it fixed- I want them _all_ fixed, _today_."

"I have things to do-" A sharp inhale through her nose, as he pressed menacingly into her backside again. Her hands braced against the edge of her desk to prevent her pelvis from crushing into it. "-Besides answer your every whim, _Your Highness_."

Before he could retort, she lurched backward into him as best she could, and immediately he responded with another hard push forward. She gave a small cry and grit her teeth, and the rumble of his chest behind her signaled a sinister chuckle.

"You'll do whatever I tell you to do, _bitch_ ," came his gutteral reply, and her chest and face felt instantly hot. "Or-"

"Or else what?" Bulma cut into him as nastily as she could, giving her hips another roll into him and-

 _ **There**_.

She felt something unmistakable and hard twitch under her bottom. Her belly knotted, and she gave another good curl backward. This time, to her awe, he returned with a smaller thrust in kind.

"What are you gonna do, Vegeta?"

He snarled, the hand not destroying the battle droid gripping at the edge of the desk to her left, as he rutted into her bottom. Her lashes fluttered as she tried to keep her breathing even. Evidence of his arousal was very firmly now pressing into her as she returned each small bump backward as inconspicuously as she could.

"You're lucky I haven't shown you yet," he huffed, and she couldn't mistake the hitch in his breath as he continued his restrained movements. "With your foul mouth and insubordination..."

With each rock against her, she had to bite back a moan, as the front of her trousers pressed up and up against the edge of her desk in just the right spot. She hung her head and her mouth fell open as she gyrated with what little motion she was permitted, confined by his massive body.

Against her ear, Vegeta's breathing came in ragged puffs, and he whispered viciously into her hair, "I could kill you."

She should snap back, shove him off, sneer and be offended by his mere presence, but her body was a traitor to lust, and Bulma only just caught a groan in her throat before it could slip out and give her away.

"V-Vegeta," she finally managed, and he bucked forcefully into her rump. Her clit bumped the table and she hissed through her teeth. "What-"

"Shut up," he snapped and suddenly his hips were moving in faster, shorter rolls, and she felt his damp forehead rest against the nape of her neck. His hot breath shot tingles down her spine and straight into her center. She followed each quick movement of his pelvis with a little more force, and when he moaned into her skin, she knew immediately she was going to need more than this.

His fingers to her left clenched and unclenched and she arched to meet him back and the desk against her front. The sound of their panting and the creaking of the desk beneath them was all that filled the quiet, whirring of the lab.

Steadily, that dull ache was beginning to crest toward a peak and _oh god, was she really gonna-?_

But Vegeta's hips began to stutter in his rutting against her, his thighs smacking right into the backs of her own. He hissed a sharp _fuckkk_ and, before she could think, he abruptly pitched the remnants of the droid to the floor.

He was gone, her body left cold and frozen in time without him hot against her.

She daren't turn around, listening to just her own harsh breathing and his hurried footfalls as evacuated the lab behind her.

Bulma stared down at her hands, fisted now in the design prints she had been scouring over, as her chest heaved.

Well … what the fuck was she supposed to do with this _now_?


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry in advance for the cliffhanger! Thanks guys for all the faves, follows, and reviews! :)

* * *

Apparently, what she was supposed to do was get virtually nothing done in her life, aside replaying that scenario almost every night and pine for that which had steadfastly evaded her since.

Bulma was beginning to feel like an animal in heat, and she detested herself for it. She was better than this! She was a genius! A mogul! She wasn't some desperate floozy whose only ideations were about her next good time!

… Except that's definitely what she was. Her house guest had remained elusive, and she was sure she'd only seen him in the last week via the cameras in the GR which she certainly wasn't abusing on her downtime.

It was driving her crazy. The memory of his solid body. How clearly she could feel _that_ part of him, pressing insistently against her. His heat.

Bulma chewed at the eraser end of her pencil and jiggled her knees under the desk as she worried over the memories and just _longed_.

But, genius that she was, an idea came to her. It inspired her beyond her one-track mind, and honestly it was relief to have something that wasn't just _that_ on her brain.

Not that _that_ wasn't the end goal in mind, here.

 _…._

"Vegeta?"

He froze at the sound of her oddly sweet tone behind him, suspended in air. Immediately distrustful. Immediately on edge. She could see it in every rigid line of him.

"Why are you interrupting me?" Vegeta barked after a heavy moment, only casting her his profile from over his shoulder.

He didn't deny her entirely. That was promising.

"Well, I have something that might interest you. I've been working on it, and - well-"

"What I have has been sufficient enough presently," he snarled and turned away again. "I'll tell you when I need something; you don't tell me."

She had to curl her fingers and toes tightly, and it had to be lust that let her accept such condescension.

Bulma swallowed, continuing with carefully chosen words, "Look, you want advancement in your training? I've got the goods. Take 'em, or don't, but I'll be in my lab the rest of the afternoon if you want to take a peek."

She didn't wait for a response, her pride allowing her that much as she blipped off the holo.

Bulma glanced aside to her creation and bit her lip, hoping this wouldn't derail her efforts altogether.

However, it didn't take as long she thought it would for the princely Saiyan to make an appearance. About an hour and a half later, the lab doors hissed apart to announce his entrance, and he strode into the room with his arms folded tightly and sweat still gleaming across his forehead and bare torso.

He was certainly a tall drink of water, and she had been parched for the last week since their encounter. She ached at the sight of him, and the most radical part of her wanted to taste each droplet on his brow.

His heated stare seared through her, and she wagered he too could recount vividly their earlier episode. Vegeta didn't dare go much further beyond the threshold. He was eyeing her with blatant suspicion, and she supposed she couldn't blame him.

After all, this was how traps generally began.

And, for all intents and purposes, this was definitely a trap.

So she moved first, kicking her red heels down from atop her desk and rising from her chair to approach him at a deliberate pace. "How're those new droids?"

"You said you had something," he steered the conversation back to face-value intention.

 _Okay, then._

"I do," Bulma nodded, holding up a finger to pause him. "Now, I know you didn't ask for it, but I really think-"

"Hurry up, woman," Vegeta rolled his eyes, and Bulma felt the blush of indignation saturate her cheeks. "You're wasting my time with your prattle."

"I'm getting there, you jerk!" She spat with a stamp of her foot, anger winning out over other competing, baser emotions. He seemed to appreciate that at least, as something mischievous flashed in his eyes as he narrowed in on her. "Could you be fucking courteous for five seconds?"

He smirked, and her stomach tightened. "Is that how long this is going to take? I can start counting."

She was beginning to regret the whole stupid plan. With every ounce of patience and civility she could muster, Bulma turned on her heel and stomped into a side closet room. Away from his rich glower and bronzed skin, she could breathe again. The air already felt ten times lighter in here, and she inhaled as deeply as her lungs would allow.

After a few seconds of respite, Bulma regathered herself enough to wheel the large mannequin into the lab proper.

Vegeta's reaction was instantaneous, and she reveled in each glorious moment of it.

First came surprise. She didn't know his eyebrows could get that high on his forehead, thinking they were perhaps permanently knit together in consternation. It was, if there needed to be a word applied, _cute_.

Second came confusion. That one was irregular, but not uncommon. Vegeta was often confounded by daily life around the Capsule compound, and Bulma had already long-since categorized that one as cute, too.

But the third reaction made all her hair stand on end. She was fairly certain that every inch of her body was covered in gooseflesh as Vegeta rounded on the armor-clad mannequin with a look of unadulterated _awe_.

His mouth hung partially open, eyes intense and focused in a way she had never seen before. Bulma hoped privately that he had never looked at anything like that before now. It made her feel dizzy and proud, and she nervously worked the ends of her lab coat sleeves between her fingers as she hungrily observed his scrutiny.

Eventually, he halted in his pacing, standing to the side of the mannequin. One rough knuckle lifted, and he knocked twice at the shiny white breastplate.

"How?" He muttered under his breath, and she wished horribly he would just look at her.

"I know my mother bought you a bunch of clothes recently," she stifled a chuckle at his wrinkled nose, "but I know those aren't really your style. And I know the only other armor you had was- well-"

Vegeta cut her off with a look that hedged on sour, but still held that level of esteem. Her heart skipped a beat, and she pressed on, moving slowly to join him at the mannequin's side.

"I remembered my dad and I had retrieved a bunch of data from your pods and scouters, and there were some general schematics on that type of armor you guys wore. So I just made some adjustments, given the details we've gathered from your and Goku's trainings, and-"

Quicker than a breath, he reached out and snatched her wrist before she could touch her own creation, yanking her so close to him she could feel the heat of him surround her.

"Why?" That awe was now near completely dissolved under a blanket of suspicion again, and his inky gaze bore so madly into her own that her answer got caught up in her throat.

"I- I just wanted to help-"

"No," he sniffed and eyed her up and down. He wasn't buying it.

Vegeta reiterated, "Why?"

Bulma thinned her lips together and squinted up at him. Did he know? Did he _want_ to know? It seemed like he was challenging her for a truer answer, and not one to back down from a fight, she offered a coy wink in return. "And maybe I just _really_ wanted to see you in something a little more form fitting? I mean, don't get me wrong, the shorts are nice…" She allowed her eyes to wander appreciatively down to his thighs...

He threw her arm down as if burned and took a step backward. "You really are a crude little strumpet, aren't you?"

The rosy tint in his cheeks was adorable. Bulma followed him that step forward and preened. "Probably," she supplied, then tilted her head toward the armor. "You gonna try it on or what?"

Vegeta eyed her warily, then the suit. She licked her lips in anticipation of his answer.

At last, he consented with a nod and, with zero preamble, he stripped his shorts down and Bulma nearly gagged at the vision laid before her.

There he stood, unabashed and exposed entirely in the middle of her lab, and she realized in that instance that her imagination alone - while brilliant - simply couldn't conjure such detail. Every inch of him was chiseled and golden, like those statues in museums, the ones with signs that say "Please Don't Touch" and all she had ever wanted to do was reach out and touch.

She had to press her tongue hard against the back of her teeth to fight off the urge to do just that.

Vegeta glanced at her as he toed off his sneakers, the barest hint of a smirk dancing at the corner of his lips. "Don't tell me you've finally learned to shut up, woman."


End file.
